The Steward of Gondor
by bleedcolor
Summary: Pippin is having trouble sleeping and speaks to Gandalf about it. Implied PippinMerry.


Never before in his lifetime had Pippin felt so alone. Certainly, this quest had brought many new experiences but even when he and Merry had been separated from the rest of the fellowship he'd been with one other hobbit, some one of his own kind who might have understood the problems he was having right now.  
  
Of course in the instance of that little seperation from their group it had helped that Merry, who was the one major constant in his life, had been the hobbit with him, and also that shortly there after they had made friends with Treebeard and the other ents.  
  
Certainly, at the moment, he had Gandalf with him but it was different than being with Merry. For one, the white wizard was no hobbit, and for another although physically Gandalf was the same as Pippin had always known him, he seemed changed. Far more wise and seemingly less patient to be trifled with about foolish hobbit worries.  
  
Worries that, instead of important matters such as the ring and Frodo, rested on selfish things, like what was to become of him in the service of the Steward and of Merry. Whether or not his cousin was safe from danger, although knowing Merry it was probably vain to hope him safe from harm. After all Merry wanted to fight for his friends and for middle earth. It was just the kind of giving person his elder cousin was.  
  
Thoughts straying to the Steward and his own battle to fight, Pippin sighed softly. His eyes strayed in the dark of the room to where he knew his new uniform, complete with the white tree of Gondor, lay over a chair. What would Merry say about the situation he'd gotten himself into this time? But Merry wasn't here, not to take some of the blame for some silly prank that Pip had gotten him into, nor to comfort Pippin. And the way things were escalating here at Gondor, Merry might very well never be there again.  
  
It was time to grow up, to take care of himself, and Pippin knew it, but how did one grow in a place where they were viewed as naught more than a child? Another soft sigh escaped the hobbit's lips and he rolled onto his side silently in the bed that was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable.  
  
"It is far too late for young hobbits to be awake."  
  
Pippin started, unprepared for the sound of Gandalf's voice although he probably shouldn't have been seeing as since the incident with the Palantir Gandalf had made sure that while his young charge did not sleep, neither did he.  
  
"I'm sorry for keeping you awake, Gandalf. Only, I can't sleep..."  
  
"Still having unpleasant dreams, Master Took?"  
  
Master Took. Pippin fought back another sigh. Before Moria Gandalf had called him Pippin when he wasn't being stern or teasing. Now, though, it was always Master Took or Peregrin, or if Gandalf was especially furious, fool of a Took! Never Pip or Pippin. Not that he could really blame Gandalf, every disaster on this trip had been his fault. Gandalf's death had even been his fault...  
  
The soft clearing of a throat made Pippin realize that Gandalf was still awaiting his answer and he shook his head, realizing only a couple of seconds later that Gandalf could not possibly have seen the motion in the dark room and that he would have to speak.   
  
"No, Gandalf, no unpleasant dreams..." he trailed off.  
  
No, unpleasant dreams had not stirred him from sleep in more than a week, but it was his dreams that now kept him from his rest. They were pleasant enough dreams, very pleasant, in fact, though rather unsettling, filled with soft touches, warm kisses, comforting arms, a loving voice, and...Merry.  
  
Elbereth help him, it was Merry who haunted his dreams, his cousin who, in sleep, touched him where no other ever had. And what was worse is that Pippin woke up longing for more, for the arms around him, the soft lips upon his own...  
  
"What is it, then, Peregrin Took, that keeps you up at this hour?"  
  
Pippin was silent for a few more seconds and watched, quietly, as a lamp was lit and the room slowly illuminated. When he could see Gandalf across from him sitting up in his own bed, he spoke.  
  
"Nothing that you could help with Gandalf, I don't even understand myself."  
  
"It could not hurt to ask."  
  
Pippin frowned. Could it? If it was indeed what he thought it might perhaps change Gandalf's veiw of him into something worse that it already was. After all it was hardly natural to lust after your cousin, your MALE cousin. But then again Gandalf's opinion of him was probably already so low that it hardly mattered what else Pippin said to lower it. Gandalf was also wise though...so maybe he could help him understand why he was feeling this way about Merry? Pip frowned more deeply, focusing inward and debating with himself whether or not he should speak of this with Gandalf.  
  
Gandalf, for his part, sat on the bed and watched the young hobbit's manner become more and more grave. He was slightly worried when Pippin didn't answer for a quite a while and, although the expression on his face was quite amusing, Gandalf questioned him again.  
  
"Pippin, my lad, what is it that has you looking so serious?"  
  
Pippin looked up at the wizard at the use of his nickname and smiled. Maybe it wouldn't hurt....  
  
"It's my dreams, Gandalf, they're not unpleasant, quite the opposite, but I," he paused and licked his lips, "I've been having dreams about Merry. And--" he cut himself off and blushed brightly.  
  
Gandalf raised an eyebrow, pondering the blush, "And?"  
  
"And nearly all I can think about is Merry. I don't know...why...it haunts me...whether he's safe...and I'm confused as to why I suddenly feel this way about my cousin!" tears of frustration filled Pippin's eyes.  
  
The wizard took a few moments to connect the pieces of sentences that Pippin had given him and nodded slowly.  
  
"Ah..."  
  
"Ah? What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Gandalf chuckled lightly.   
  
"You, my boy, are simply in love. It happens to all of us. There's nothing really you can do about it, although I hope you intend to tell Merry, as I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear it."  
  
"What do you mean, Gandalf?" Pippin asked haltingly.  
  
"I mean that your cousin has been enamored with you for quite a while and will be very glad to hear that you reciprocate his feelings."  
  
Pippin stared at the wizard in the bed across from him and felt the tears of frustration from earlier fall slowly onto his cheeks, now becoming tears of sorrow.   
  
"Why are you crying, Pippin? Isn't that good news?"  
  
"It is, Gandalf, but what good will it do now? We will both die in the battle for middle earth, hope is lost."  
  
"Hope is never lost, lad. You and Merry will grow old together, do not doubt it. Hobbits are resiliant creatures. Now stop your crying."  
  
The youngest hobbit of the fellowship sniffed, and wiped his eyes, if only to do what Gandalf told him and to take his mind off the words of the song he'd sang for the Steward this afternoon, the words hope shall fail ringing through his mind.  
  
"Good lad, now cheer up. Things might not be brighter in the morning, but it will be one day sooner to seeing your Merry again, so go to sleep."  
  
Pippin nodded and the light in the room dimmed, then faded out. He lay flat on his back and closed his eyes against the harsh outside world that threatened to rip away the new love he'd found. If he did die here, in this land of big people, he would find a way to be with Merry. Being separated now was hard enough, he could hardly imagine what it would be like if one of them died. So he would fight, and survive, for Merry, and for himself. Pippin drifted off into dreams with that thought, to be with his love in that world if in no other.  
  
~finis~ 


End file.
